


last thoughts of a life by candlelight (Alternate Ending)

by brushesofsage



Series: more than an equation [2]
Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Varian and the Seven Kingdoms
Genre: Alternate Ending, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mention of blood, Minor panic attack, Near Death Experiences, Tearbending, donella is a warning, it's not as bad as it sounds really, let me know if I need to tag anything else, literally shoved as much feels into this so deal with it, lots of flashbacks, lots of introspection, questioning of self worth and esteem, ruddiger is so sweet, slight graphic description of dead bodies, this is beta read this time yeet, varian is trying, very bittersweet ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24759502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brushesofsage/pseuds/brushesofsage
Summary: "It was supposed to be a celebratory night - the laughter and cheers echoed from the camp - but all he felt was a lump growing in the back of his throat, a feeling of breathlessness no matter how much air he took in."-What do you do when the battle has ended, the war won, and you stagger in the midst of celebration with a sutured wound in your heart?Alone with nothing more than a furry companion and a myriad of memories to cling to, Varian reminisces childhood, pain, loss, and hope.
Relationships: Hugo & Varian (Disney: Varian and the Seven Kingdoms)
Series: more than an equation [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1753315
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	last thoughts of a life by candlelight (Alternate Ending)

**Author's Note:**

> Before anyone says anything, this is an alternate ending to the Family AU storyline where [this](https://brushes-of-sage.tumblr.com/post/617506566661439488/after-3-hours-yeet-of-taking-a-mental-break) didn't happen. Whitecatindisguise was actually an inspiration for this after one of her oneshots and I was in the mood to kill someone off. So this happened. Buuuut, Starlight Brigade, the inspiration for the title, is actually the only reason why the last bit was written and has a bittersweet ending. You're welcome.
> 
> I feel like some parts kind of dragged a bit, but at this point, my brain was adding as much feelsy moments as I could, I'll let y'all be the judge of that. This was more of a practice of writing in this universe. Now, without further ado.
> 
> Read it and weep.

-

_ Little soldier boy, _

_ Come marching home. _

_ Brave soldier boy _

_ Comes marching home _

**_Uncle Iroh, Tales of Ba Sing Se_ **

-

“The sunset’s pretty tonight.” 

His legs dangled over the edge of the cliff as he swung them back and forth, leaning back on the palms of his hands. “We never got this view from home, did we? It was always either clouds or walls or early morning trips to… well, the capital wasn’t so open either.” He let out a sigh as his voice trailed off. 

_ Home _ . 

Even after everything that had happened there - the hate, the lies, the  _ war _ \- some little part of him still saw Bearnhelm as home. Even if it  _ had _ been their prison for nearly their entire lives... he’d still grown up there. His brother might’ve said differently, but he was  _ sure  _ he could remember some moments of fun and joy in the midst of its hellish darkness. The books hidden behind the stones in the walls. The sugary treats they’d swipe away from the kitchen. The little blanket forts they made in the closet. Their giggling in the dark, with shadow puppets reflecting off of the candle set between the two of them in the middle of the night after a long,  _ long  _ day of study and ‘work’.

That had been the good he knew. Those memories were what he clung on to even now, so why did he feel so… confused?

_ It’s normal _ , the new princess had told him, with an almost familiar, distant look in her green eyes.  _ At least, that’s what I’ve been told. When what you’ve grown up with has become your basis for perspective, change… makes it hard to unlearn it all. And it takes time to accept that and move forward. But I’m proud of you for coming this far.  _

_ Proud of you... _

What did that even mean?  _ ‘I’m proud of you.’ _ What did  _ they _ mean when they said that? What  _ was _ praise in all this? 

_ With words like ‘my dear boy’ and ‘I knew you could do it’ that could be twisted into something… not so pleasant? _

No. 

_ A hand to the shoulder or an embrace that could turn into a cold and painful lesson about how one couldn’t - shouldn’t - trust anyone but  _ them _? _

Not that either. 

_ A gleeful smile that sent all of his instincts into shock and promised fear and submission? _

That couldn’t be it. But what  _ could  _ it be if that was all he’d ever known? When he’d been expected to preen under the slight twist of Father’s mouth as he scrutinized his form and speech? When the only time he’d heard those words - the soft,  _ ‘I’m proud of you,’ _ with the snap of gloves echoing in the corner of his mind - was as he’d been curled up, shivering on the cold, stone floor, collapsing after hours of  _ still, keep still or it’s two more hours, you’ll never learn _ ... - When, even after witnessing the mutilated bodies fall left and right and the muck of bloody gore that clung to his boots - as he’d been held by his throat over the ledge - felt a pang of longing as he stared into his mother’s dark eyes, fighting for breath as she had slowly frowned and, with a sneer, cut through his heart with,  _ ‘You had potential’... _ ? 

What could that possibly mean?

_ “It means he’s glad you enjoyed it.” Yong replied with a wave back towards the hut they had just left, a wide grin crossing the older man’s face as he waved back. “You really helped to fix the leak in his roof. It always seems to be falling apart this time of year no matter what anyone tries to do.” Varian shook his head, brow furrowing in confusion as he studied the box in his hands. He remembered how the man had handed it to him, his fingers a flurry that matched the energy of his smile.  _

_ “Why?” Not that he didn’t appreciate the small boxed game, he just… didn’t know what to think of it. “He took us in and fed us. That was just repayment, why would he...” He started when Yong chuckled.  _

_ “That’s just the way he is. Uncle Jeong doesn’t get visitors much, much less find anyone who can keep up with him at kono. I guess he figured you’d find it fun to practice with while on the road.”  _

_ “But I lost.”  _

_ The boy shrugged. “It happens. It took me years to even learn how to last a while against him. But it’s not really about winning or losing. Like Uncle Jeong would say,” he cleared his throat and Varian watched in fascination as Yong’s hands moved in unison with his words, “‘Patience is a virtue and growth is its reward…’ wait that’s not the right one…” Hugo let out a snort as Yong squinted and slowly repeated a sign.  _

_ “I’d wager close enough.” Yong let out a triumphant whoop. _

_ “Nope, it was this one…”  _

_ Varian let the conversation drown out as the two of them walked ahead. His fingers slipped underneath the cover and he ran them over the smooth stones, losing himself in thought. It didn’t make sense. A debt had been repaid, an exchange of services had occurred, so why this? Why had the man taken such an interest in  _ him _? Pulling him off to the side after everyone else had fallen asleep, nearly frightening him into shock before carefully setting up the small table with the colored rocks placed square from each other - patiently trying to teach him how to play a game that really… gave him no benefit other than staving off boredom? _

_ Or sleep, he thought warily, blatantly trying to push aside unwanted memories.  _

_ There was nothing to gain. However… _

_ He found that he was enjoying it. Even if he couldn’t understand exactly what the man was explaining, trial and error let him figure out some of the rules along the way and a rush of excitement had begun to rise up as the minutes passed. Even so, a part of him was ready for the catch to be unveiled, waiting for a mistake on his part to lead to a punishment - or worse - a justification to kick them out, but it never came. No matter how many wrong moves and continual losses he’d taken on, the man never got upset. He’d only gesture softly with a smile and reset the board. That same smile that he gave right before his maneuver had cost him the final game - one that he’d been so close to winning - before everyone woke up. They had strategized - played? - the entire night. And somehow, this time, the sinking feeling of disappointment - of time wasted, efforts failed again - had not emerged. _

_ When the man had placed the boxed set in his hands, for the first time in his life, Varian didn’t feel a shiver crawling up his spine at the unfamiliar touch. Didn’t flinch away from a perceived threat. There had been a gleam of… something in his eyes and the way he gestured - bowing slightly as the side of his hand bounced against the flat of his other palm, and another movement he’d missed - that had taken him aback for a moment. Something that he found himself wishing for again.  _

_ A selfish thought, but nonetheless. It’d felt nice.  _

_ Thank you, Yong had translated. And a symbol that wished for a safe journey.  _

Was that what it was then? A feeling without benefit for yourself but rather a feeling  _ for _ others?  _ About _ others? Was praise something given or- or felt? Something that came without strings? Or were they just words hidden behind  _ other _ intentions? Because it certainly had to be more than just empty words and empty promises - if it was given so  _ freely, _ it meant that someone had to act like they- like they cared. There  _ had  _ to be a difference - their actions had to  _ show  _ it,  _ mean _ it - it couldn’t be  _ just  _ their words.

But to show that they… that they were...  _ happy  _ for that person - that they cared for them - could only be seen as  _ weak _ , without a sense of preservation for even throwing around such feelings without regard...

_ He glanced up, the two boys still talking and gesturing to each other. His brother glimpsed behind him every so often to make sure that he was still there. A strange and warm sensation filled his chest as the barest of smiles lifted the corner of his mouth. He let himself fall back at his brother’s side as he was pulled forward and wrapped with a comforting arm around him. Hesitant but there.  _

His brother, who’d been insistent and nagging about moving around and keeping him safe. His brother, who had constantly taken the fall back home for him. Who had been subjected to horrible, horrible things because he didn’t want Varian to have to do so as well. His stoic brother, who had marched back to Bearnhelm to face their mother despite how  _ terrified  _ he was and who had nearly cried after pulling him from off the ledge. His brother, who’d stood by him for so long, even when he messed up.  _ Especially  _ when he messed up - like awakening a stone guardian or getting themselves thrown into the Galcrestan dungeons for a comment too many, or freezing when his brother had been pulled under dark waters, nearly drowning a second time by the sirens’ false promises and he had just  _ stood by _ … 

Hugo had never punished him for that, he’d never yelled at him for that. Just nodded and let him try again. And again. And again.

All because he cared about him. 

Varian looked up at the darkening sky, twisting a piece of metal in his hands. “Are you proud of me, Hugo?” he whispered. The words sat on his tongue, memories stale, but if their parents… if Donella and… and Father…  _ hadn’t _ been proud of him - not  _ really  _ \- then he wondered that maybe, if he’d been given the chance to ask, would his brother… have been? 

“I understand if you aren’t,” he rushed on, his mouth a thin line. “I mean, you’ve done so much for me, you’ve been through so much  _ because  _ of me,” And only in hindsight could Varian see the signs from throughout their childhood that stood out ever so clearly in his mind now: carefully worded phrases around others, drastic changes from being confrontational one moment to subdued and distant the next, the constant dark circles beneath his eyes, his unhealthy pale complexion and the haunted look as he would shadow around the mansion, as if he’d seen too much... and he  _ had _ . 

“And I…” he turned away, “I didn’t see.”

It was supposed to be a celebratory night - the laughter and cheers echoed from the camp - but all he felt was a lump growing in the back of his throat, a feeling of breathlessness no matter how much air he took in. His bottom lip quivered and heat built up from behind his eyes. There was sudden weight in his lap as Ruddiger climbed on, sensing his oncoming distress, but the once comforting feeling of running his fingers through the soft fur did nothing to quell the burning in his lungs and soon, he couldn’t stop the tears that began to spill over. 

“So why,” he sobbed, bringing Ruddiger closer to himself and buried his face into the fur - for a moment, hoping that it was a familiar leather, a familiar green warmth. “Why did you save me?”

All he’d ever done was try and fail and  _ try _ , only to continue to fail over again. It was purely dumb luck that some of his ideas had worked, and even then, he’d still ended up hurting people. Never mind how often Hugo would brush it aside, never mind how he’d say it was alright. Even if it was unintentional, he ruined more than he could fix. And, in those moments directly after his biggest mistakes, more often than not he  _ had _ considered giving up the whole science and alchemy field - an effort he wanted to give his  _ all _ but everything seemed to work against him. But he didn’t want to disappoint Hugo -  _ can’t disappoint Father _ \- and even with the thrill of success it brought him, it felt selfish somehow. A gift he craved but a path he cursed.

\- And no matter what he did, he still tried  _ so hard _ to please everyone, even if a small part of him knew he couldn’t, but how  _ could  _ he stop - if there was even a chance to  _ not fail _ , to  _ do right _ , he had to take it, to prove that he was more than just a failure, more than just a pawn in some great political scheme, more than  _ just what Father had taught him _ \- 

“You were right, I should’ve listened to you. I wasn’t ready and now, because of me, you-” His voice caught, the next words thick in his throat.  _ He _ had frozen when he’d heard Father’s voice echo down the corridor. It was  _ his  _ hands that had been shaking as he’d tried to mix chemicals together to defend their group, and it was  _ his _ failed attempt that had led Donella to find them -  _ him  _ \- and forced a retreat which had gotten him cornered and caught and she’d almost… Hugo had…

_ “‘... fallen down to his death...’ Are you even listening, Var?” _

_ Something between a sniffle and a hum escaped the safety of his cocoon as he heard Hugo sigh. His brother adjusted his hold, letting Varian curl up further into his chest.  _

_ “Come on, what’s the point of reading if you’re not gonna listen to it? You’re the one who asked for a story,” he grumbled, trying to place the bookmark back in its place. _

_ Varian let out a whine, muffled under the blanket covering him.  _

_ “What was that?” _

_ The blanket opened up just enough for Varian to mumble his answer. “Not tha’ one,” he said before burrowing back underneath the covers. He could practically hear Hugo’s wide-eyed sputter and it almost brought a smile to his face. Almost. _

_ “You literally ask me to read this one every time, it’s your favorite, so why-” He went silent, Varian guessed, as his eyes fell on the book’s cover. “Oh…” was all he said, his voice suddenly somber, and Varian could hear the beating of his brother’s heart loudly against his ear.  _ Thump, thump, ba thump _. He felt shifting and suddenly, light pierced into his sanctuary and bounced off of Hugo’s too-large glasses. The worried look that crossed his face caused Varian to immediately turn away.  _

_ “Varian…” _

_ “...no.” _

_ Hugo pulled the blanket back, this time with a bit more force. “Varian, come on, look at me.” _

_ “No…” _

_ “Is this about what happened today?”  _

_ He let out a whimper and buried himself deeper into the mess of blankets, trying to forget the barrage of memories his brother’s question had incidentally brought up. Something  _ had  _ happened - Father had yelled at him, which was rare, and he didn’t know why. He’d done everything he’d asked of him without a single complaint, no matter how much his arms had begun to hurt, but when the books had fallen he’d simply... Reacted. Cowered in a corner and Father was suddenly standing far too tall over him and then Hugo had appeared and the yelling had only gotten louder. And after that… well, after that it had all been a blur.  _

_ But Rowan getting into an argument with Ulric the Treacherous, one that sounded far too similar to  _ him,  _ was not helping him go to sleep.  _

_ Hugo drew his lips into a thin line. “I’m sorry Varian. He shouldn’t have…” He shook his head, swallowing back words before taking in a deep breath. “What story do you want?” There was a moment of silence, a moment where Varian pressed his fingers into his palms and released them, before he tentatively poked his head out, answering with his eyes cast away from him. _

“‘Dance of the Waves.’”

_ Hugo only blinked. “You want… okay,” he said, brow creasing as he paused to remember where the story began. His free hand rose, the memory of having told the story time and time again rooted in his gestures, but he glanced down once more with a curious expression. “You sure you want this one?” _

_ Varian nodded. _

_ The red that filled Hugo’s cheeks made him laugh, a hiccuped giggle that he quickly stifled with his hands, which only caused the blush to spread towards the tips of his brother’s ears. Hugo had always complained that his made-up stories were never any good, but Varian didn’t care. Those were the ones he loved the most. Because he always made them sound like… so much like Hugo. And they never got boring.  _

_ “Alright, so one time, long ago, there was an ocean, an island, and a boat. And every five years, the old man who lived on that island would go out in the middle of the night when the full moon was right over him. And instead of it being dark, the water was glowing with bioluminescent creatures - you know, the ones that glow at night - with so many different colors and shapes and they would all come out to meet the same boat they knew and the man would sit back and watch as they all began to dance…” _

_ This was where Varian felt most comfortable. The vibrations of Hugo’s voice softly carried his attention away, and a calm fell over him as the tension from moments before disappeared. Fingers threaded through his hair and with a sigh, he leaned into the touch. This was safe. He was safe. Nothing could get through in here. Not here in his little cocoon.  _

_ After some time, his eyelids began to droop as sleep reached from the edges of his vision, his head caught between laying still and nodding off. He was only half aware that the story had trailed off - and what does the old man see when the sea goddess opens his eyes? - but he could pick up what Hugo was saying. _

_ “You know it’s not your fault, right?” There was a beat of silence before he sighed. “Don’t... blame yourself for what he did. It wasn’t your fault, ‘kay, Var?” However, by then, the memory of the words and the day had faded away in the back of his toddler mind as the sound of his brother’s voice lulled him to sleep. _

He’d sounded so wise then, giving assurance that bolstered even the downest of days. but even so, no eight year old should’ve been in that position. Neither of them should’ve been there. And yet they were. Each of them hurt by someone who was supposed to care. At least Father - Dorian - had pretended. For all his intentions of molding him into his  _ perfect marionette all wrapped up in strings _ , his words had kept him sheltered in a fantasy - grey but  _ tolerable _ . Donella however… 

He shivered.

The woman had tormented his brother his whole life. Something he’ll never fully understand. Even now, Varian could remember the burning heat in her dark eyes during those last moments and that was something that he knew would haunt him forever. But he knew he would never know what really happened behind closed doors, what his brother had been forced to see, forced to do. And, he supposed, in the midst of the whirlwind of war, with the threat of  _ her _ promising to follow them forever… Hugo had been pent up with restlessness and a rage that simmered underneath his skin ever since they’d begun their march with the Galcrestan army. It had been  _ concerning _ to feel the difference in the air and  _ terrifying _ to see his brother, his sole anchor, walk off to his death while his own body refused to respond, to reach out, to stop him. The surge of emotions had also overwhelmed him then - the conflict of  _ needing  _ to be out there,  _ needing  _ to help,  _ it should have been me _ , but reeling as his mind tried to compartmentalize the new information: that Hugo cared, cared for  _ him _ , and was just as willing to go to any length without a second thought. And Hugo was  _ mad _ . 

Like a curtain being drawn, light shattered through to dig open old but deep wounds and suddenly the world went sideways and  _ made sense _ . A chance to righten a wrong, to erase a stain from their lives, to be  _ free  _ and finally be able to sever the chains that dragged behind, for  _ revenge _ . But Hugo hadn’t gone back for her. 

He’d gone back because of him.

He’d gone back  _ for _ him. 

_ “You’re the only thing I have left. And I want to see you safe - safe and free and happy for once in your life. And I- I can’t lose you.” _

_ “Don’t blame yourself, ‘kay?” _

A wet laugh bubbled out of him and he rubbed his eyes with shaking hands. “Okay,” he managed, “okay. I’ll… I’ll try.” He kept laughing, bent over with Ruddiger glancing up worriedly at the sudden change in behavior because while it hurt, while remembering hurt so much, laughing felt  _ so good _ . And there was no one who could take it away from him. Not anymore.

“I’ll try.” 

He sat there for what seemed like ages, letting the tears trail down his cheeks and dry. Ruddiger trilled a tune in his lap, paws tickling his skin and his breathing fell into rhythm with the vibrations of his purrs as he continued to pet him. The sun had since dipped beyond the horizon and above him, stars began to flicker to life. They weren’t as bright as he’d remembered in the mountains - of course, nothing else shone that bright in Bearnhelm anyway - but their darting light brought a memory to mind and with it, a familiar and conversational routine of speaking, and he could almost imagine his brother sitting next to him, listening intently.

“Nuru is headed back to Galcrest,” he began, picturing the weary princess who had watched him leave just hours before. Despite the festivities, she’d been off alone too, enjoying the scene from the sidelines. Seeing so many of her people die  _ had  _ to have taken some kind of toll on her - another burden he could scarcely begin to understand. But still, for some reason, he tried to imagine it. “From what I heard, Tian is going to be taking over as regent until she gets crowned or at least until the queen heals enough to return to the throne. Nuru hasn’t… she hasn’t talked about that much.” 

He dropped a hand to the ground, letting his fingers run over the thin, scratchy grass. The burden of an entire kingdom was one he hoped to never understand, but seeing her walk around the camp like… like a ghost - a scene so frighteningly familiar - something inside him urged him to  _ be there _ . To do something, somehow, because he knew that  _ that _ wasn’t her. Not the Nuru they’d grown to know. Not really.

He drew a knee up, eliciting startled chittering from Ruddiger, who scurried around it, as a lighter thought pushed the worry aside for now. 

“She also invited me to go and stay at the castle, or at least nearby, if- if I wanted to.” Varian couldn’t keep the hesitation out of his voice. It had been so long to hear someone, aside from Hugo. offer him something like this. A choice that he could make without strings or  _ conditions _ attached.  _ If he wanted to _ \- the thought left him staggering. 

“I, uh, left,” he said, face heating up as he instinctively ducked his head. “I didn’t know what to say, but I think she  _ wants  _ me to go? She looked kind of hopeful when she told me about it, like she wanted me to say yes, but then she said that it was  _ my _ choice to decide if I wanted to or not and that she wasn’t going to push me for it and I don’t… I don’t know.” Outside of Bearnhelm - outside of Bayangor - life was different. And he’d come to learn that it wasn’t bad, just different. New. And while they had already caught a glimpse of it… that was it, wasn’t it? It wasn't solely the change that had begun to overwhelm him. Because leaving again would not be the same this time around, would it? No more traversing through the woods together, no more navigating through towns and markets together, no more curling up by a fire, asleep, for once, together. He’d be alone, for once. And that scared him more than anything.

However, a curious part of him wanted to say yes. There was  _ so much _ out there left to see, to experience and the small voice in the back of his head was hesitantly begging  _ please _ . “They’ve still got the annual meteor shower problem going on,” he reasoned, “so maybe, maybe I can help with that.” He paused for a moment before repeating with a small burst of confidence, “I  _ want  _ to help with that.” Out of his own volition and not because it was expected of him, he told himself. It wasn’t repayment, it was a… a gift. A gift we wanted to offer in return to Nuru. To help. And Rapunzel too, she-

“Oh!” he blinked, sitting up as the memory felt like a palm to his forehead. “The new princess, Rapunzel! You didn’t get to meet her; their group crossed with the army just a few days ago but after things got cleared up with the ones in charge, we kinda met them.” The general had been wary about the new coming caravan that had stumbled their way into their camp by accident and Nuru had told him afterwards - why she insisted on letting him know what was going on with the camp was still a mystery, but it made him feel better to know and she seemed much more relaxed as well - that it had taken hours before tensions dissipated and the caravan was introduced as royalty from Corona. “They’re from Corona - you know, way out west by the ocean? Apparently it really  _ is _ sunny all the time. I didn’t really talk to the others, but the princess- Rapunzel- she seems nice. You’d like her.” He tried to hold back a giggle, trying to imagine Hugo reacting to her optimistic and free spirited persona. They really would have butt heads but his brother would have probably, begrudgingly, relented over time. The same feeling he’d felt around ‘Uncle’ Jeong had tugged him towards her. That same sense of openness and  _ safe _ was around her and he wasn’t sure why but she somehow  _ shone _ . 

“Okay, so she’s a bit…  _ lively _ most of the time, but she’s-” he mulled over the words in his head. Not only that, but after he’d been comfortable enough to meet her, to talk to her, he realized that he’d begun to spill his story, if only so vaguely, and surprisingly her reaction wasn’t pitying as was others’ but… almost understanding. 

And then she’d shared her story with him.

His voice dropped a bit. “She’s been really helpful. She  _ knows _ , Hugo, what it’s like to deal with…” His hands gestured wordlessly as he sighed. “They say I should talk to someone - to  _ help _ or something but… I don’t think I want to. Not yet at least, not when…” He clenched his eyes shut.  _ Too soon.  _ It was _ too soon _ . “Still. It was nice to just  _ talk  _ to her about it. Makes all of this feel a little less… lonely. A little less lonely.” There was a beat of silence as Ruddiger chirped up at him and he smiled a little, perking up a bit. “But she’s pretty cool too. Apparently they’ve been having some incredible, although I want to say unbelievable, adventures back in Corona and they left to understand the kingdoms a bit more?” At least, that was what he’d understood from her storytelling. “She’s almost a queen soon and her husband, Hugo, her husband is Flynn Rider! I mean, not the real one, his real name is Eugene I think, but still - it was close enough.” The grin that had stretched across his face fell a little before glancing down. “I think- I think I might start reading those books. There’s got to be copies somewhere out there, right? I mean,” he gave a hesitant laugh, “I never did find out what happened to the Earl of Camberley. I might just… well, I want to start them. Again.” This time, without consequences, he promised as he bit his lip.

Celeste would want him to, wouldn’t she? 

“But anyway, Rapunzel’s not  _ just _ a princess. Not that being a princess is bad,”  _ Just hard _ , he thought, another sad pang in his chest, “but not too many people actually understand when I ‘talk science’ you know, but  _ she  _ did when I was explaining the balloon schematics to her. She even gave suggestions for improvement and after going over them again, I think they would definitely work. It’s incredible!” Her help had shortened the amount of time it would’ve taken him to try to build the balloon, which would, in turn, be able to make travel so much faster sooner than he thought. “Not only that, but you should  _ see _ her paintings!” The rise of his voice gushing and praising her work came with a tightening of his chest, but he pushed it aside. This was a truth and he was determined to say it. “They’re so realistic and  _ colorful _ \- it’s nothing like we’ve seen before, not even those paintings from Ingvarr hold up against hers. Heh, she actually helped decorate the…” His voice trailed off as his head turned, flowery vines and script engraved on stone catching his eye, but he shook his head. 

_ Don’t think about it - not now, not yet. _

“Anyway,” he continued, picking up his enthusiasm again, “she mentioned that Demanitus - the alchemist mentioned in Nuru’s library when we were there,  _ The _ Demanitus - had originally been from Corona and apparently had left behind a  _ lot  _ of research and projects that no one’s been able to translate… and after our whole…  _ talk _ , she asked if I had wanted to go pay a visit there sometime and see them.” She  _ had  _ seemed excited during their conversation, bouncing on her heels with the widest grin he’d ever seen, which was baffling - and thankfully distracting in the moment as well. But why would she want to offer so much to  _ him _ when she had just barely met him? There were so many reasons why she simply  _ couldn’t _ trust him - and a few harrowing possibilities why he couldn’t trust  _ her _ \- but somehow she felt genuine in her suggestion and the same warmth he’d felt with Nuru, with Jeong, came again. 

_ Thank you, Yong had translated. _

And he was. Grateful for her, grateful  _ to _ her. For the opportunity she was offering. Not to mention that he  _ was _ excited about the chance to delve into science untouched for so long, perhaps even thousands of years! Maybe he could find something that would help Nuru and her kingdom as well somewhere in there. “If I say yes, I’ll probably end up travelling between Galcrest and Corona, which would be a great way to test out the balloon too but also…  _ scary _ . I think though- I think I’ll be able to do it.” 

And for a moment, his own words took him aback at the subtle decision he’d come to. He  _ did  _ want to go and stay in Galcrest, stay to help Nuru and her home, stay someplace  _ safe _ , and he did also want to take the chance to learn more in Corona. From the most revered alchemist himself, even if it  _ was  _ through writing. Something he couldn’t recognize, a kind of tingling feeling, spread from his chest down his spine and this time, the smile grew.

He’d have to let them know then. 

“We’re taking Yong back to Koto on the way to Galcrest. He’s a bit worried since he kinda ran off the first time,” Not to mention parading across the seven kingdoms and being caught up in a war, even if he’d just been on the sidelines - he was only  _ twelve _ \- and Varian could feel the familiar instinct to curl inward and the anticipation of  _ something _ but he forced it down because Yong’s family was  _ not the same _ . “But he’s fine now, I think. He was acting the same last time we spoke, and even when I tried to ask him, he said he was fine, so his family should be… alright?” He took a breath and tried to find calm in Yong’s assurances that they had nothing to worry about since it had been  _ his _ choice to leave and help and he hadn’t really seen much of the action in Bearnhelm and hey, there wouldn’t be a threat to his home anymore  _ anyways  _ so that was good - so he added on quickly. “He’s been teaching me how to  _ properly  _ make fireworks, including the big ones.” A nervous giggle came out before he could stop it. “Isn't it great to be able to make something explode for fun  _ on purpose _ ? And that people actually  _ enjoy _ it? I’ve even started to figure out if you could sequence the explosions just right for the images to look like they’re moving, like a story…” Just thinking about the possibilities left a giddy feeling that lifted his spirits. There would be so many sequences he could do, so many animated pictures he could organize onto the sky for all to see, and there were so many colors to choose from as well. Yellow possibly. Purple would be a good one. Green was a definite must have. Blue…

_ Blue _ .

His fingers came up as he tugged at his own hair absentmindedly. He hadn’t looked in a mirror since… since it had all ended, but he didn’t need it to see his pale skin, his dirt-scraped face, sleepless eyes, _his stripe_ _vibrant_ amongst the fringes of his bangs. The dye he’d been using for years had started to fade when they left and the pale hair was beginning to show through. But this time, holding it between his fingers, _seeing_ it didn’t fill him with the old need to rub it away, to coat it, _hide it, cut it off_. He could still hear Fath- Dor- _his_ voice in the back of his head, fingers curled towards him and hissing to hide the _shameful blemish_ , but Varian’s grip tightened as another voice cut through - one soft and kind and despite all experience, the memory of her presence felt _safe_ , and his shoulders lost their tension. 

She’d called it beautiful. 

“The woman we met in the village,” His voice was softer as memories floated around him - ginger and spices mixed with familiar chemicals and old books - completely different from smooth stone and stuffing oils and perfumes and  _ steriles _ . “She seemed nice, remember?” 

Although, in hindsight, Hugo wouldn’t have remembered much from their stop at Forith, half-delirious and feverish as he’d been-

-and Varian had wanted to scream because  _ why  _ had he offered his rationed portions,  _ why  _ had he given him the only warmth between the two of them, why didn’t Hugo  _ care- _

There was only so much that Varian himself could remember during the panic of being whisked away by red and green and _where was Hugo, what was he doing,_ _why couldn’t he think, alone you’re alone_ that pulsed through his mind before the smells - ginger, spice, cinnamon, steam - had brought him out of his haze and he’d realized that he was in a tear-stained embrace, warm and a hand had been stroking through his hair, down his back and for a moment in his exhaustion, he’d sagged against the hold and couldn’t hold back the rest of the tears that had begun to stream down his face and coat the dress before him. 

‘Nice’ was quite an understatement. He hadn’t recognized it then, but her patience, her impressive understanding and adaptability to their needs and also her blatant insistence to hide them under her roof, had, quite simply, saved their lives. Although, it  _ did _ scare him that she had held no regard to the threat of Donella looming over them - over her home - like a sword hanging from a thread. 

_ “I couldn’t care less if she was the Empress of Permafrost,” she’d said sternly, pressing the cup of tea into Varian’s hands. With his tears all cried out and fatigue settled, he’d remained sitting in the same chair, feeling empty but wary as he refused to let his brother out of sight. The woman continued. “Persuading the king to incite a war on top of attacking his own citizens? The entirety of his court is corrupt.” _

_ “Ulla…” sighed her husband, as if it was an old conversation, but at the sound of his voice, Varian still stiffened underneath the blanket. She blinked, as if realizing what she had said and she softened her expression as she glanced at Varian. Her husband followed her gaze and loosened up a bit too, nodding before taking his leave. “I’ll bring up more supplies,” he said, and he was gone. _

_ “Thank you.” The woman - Ulla - brought out a box, leafing through it before bringing out a small jar. Unclasping the cork, she let a few drops coat the wet cloth in her hand and proceeded to wrap it around Hugo’s forehead. Varian’s shoulders hunched as he heard the groggy groan come out of him. _

_ “Normally, you’d drink this for a swifter recovery,” she murmured, setting the jar next to the bowl of water, “but given his…'' she hesitantly brushed away stray hair plastered on his face, almost on instinct, but she was careful not to touch his skin, “fever, it would work just as well seeping through the pores. Now, I’m no physician but I’ve dabbled enough to learn a thing or two. Made and tested this tonic myself. Believe me, it works.” She adjusted the blanket around his sleeping brother, his face contorted in pain and flushed with sweat. While there had been some…  _ signs _ of the sickness, the onset had been so sudden that it shocked Varian to see Hugo, fine and walking one moment and collapsed and in near agony the next. And he didn’t seem to be getting better with each second that passed.  _

_ Varian couldn’t help it though. He straightened up, a soft hiss of breath sucked through his teeth as he saw her reach for Hugo’s glasses. She stopped at the sound and glanced at him, palms open placatingly. He didn’t move or take his eyes off of her as she carefully reached again, gently taking them off and folding them up, placing them in his hands. _

_ “Keep them safe for him? It’d be better if they didn’t break.” He blinked in silence and hesitantly brought out a hand, fingers curling over them as soon as they dropped into his palm, careful to not leave smudges. Smudges made it hard to see and Hugo hated not being able to see.  _

_ “Why,” came the question before he could stop it, and he winced at the bluntness but he just… he had to know. What did she get out of this, what did he have to give in return, would she turn away if she found out where they were from, why wasn’t she reacting to his sudden demand? Nothing came at him though, as he dared to glance up to see Ulla giving him a contemplative look.  _

_ A moment of silence passed before she hesitantly laid her hands on top of his, drawing away when he flinched and drew away - he shouldn’t have done that, why did he do that? She didn’t seem perturbed however, which was strange. Just... sad. She sighed softly before pulling up another chair by the bed and her fingers clung to the folds of her dress.  _

_ “I’ve seen enough horrors pass through this door to last me a lifetime.” The sad expression passed from Hugo and then to him. “And I believe you have in some way too.” The corner of her mouth turned up but it wasn’t happy. “Too much is taken in this kingdom - I believe it’s only fair to give back. And what better way to do so by undermining their will?” His brow furrowed at the reminder - ‘their will’, ‘undermining  _ their _ will?’ - and she seemed to notice and quickly hurried on. “Of course, it’s getting dark and you’ll need your strength when he wakes up,” She pushed her own chair back and stood up, walking back over to hand him a pillow.  _

_ “Here,” she let him drop the mug into her hands in exchange for the small cushion, “although I wouldn’t recommend getting too close in case you catch the fever as well but…” Another glance between the two of them and the desperate look that reached his eyes and she relented with a soft sigh. “There is water there in the bowl to wet the rag, just come get me if you need to refill it. And there’s another blanket for him should the fever break and for you as well. Let me know if there are any changes and please, get some rest yourself.”  _

_ The door closed quietly and gave them privacy. But Varian was too frozen in place, staring at Hugo’s strained face, that he stayed seated in the same spot on the chair only to wake up hours later with several more blankets laid over him and a small table of food sitting next to them. And Hugo had woken up... _

He let his bangs fall from his fingers. “Ulla was there too, in the aftermath helping with her husband and others from the village.” There to see him curled up on the roof, there to kneel down beside him, there to let him fall into her arms and- 

“And she said that their home would always be open anytime we decide to come back, but…”  _ Back  _ to Bayangor? Back to…  _ home? _ Home was treats snuck from the kitchen, home was bedtime stories in the dark, home was- home wasn’t- 

_ Go back? _ He wasn’t sure if he wanted to anymore. 

But to know that there was a safe place to be if it just  _ so happened  _ that they’d need it?

“I know you’re worried about her, Hugo. I don’t  _ fully  _ trust her either,” Which wasn’t the complete truth - but Varian still didn’t understand why being in her presence made him feel so free to be  _ emotional _ . Of course, Hugo, on the other hand, had been in a state of panic before he’d become lucid enough to recognize him. And it had taken what seemed like ages for the tension and fear to dissipate as much as it could when he’d come in contact with Ulla and Quirin, and Varian had refused to leave his side for the rest of their stay. However-

“I think she’s good,” he whispered. “She meant it, at least, when she said she was willing to help, I’m sure of that. She doesn’t have to but she did. And... I think- I think I can give her another chance. If it comes to that.” 

He wasn’t ready to go back. Not yet. But a contingency… felt nice. 

And if that failed, well, at least he would know the truth. But the same feeling with Rapunzel, with Nuru, came and for some inexplicable reason he knew, somehow, that if something were to happen, she’d be safe. He wouldn’t be  _ alone _ . And that surge of emotion nearly took his breath away.

_ How did this feel so good?  _

His smile waned however, and his gaze dropped. The rush of feeling - that was happiness, wasn’t it? - quelled. In only a few short months, not even a year, his entire world had been upended and the fantasy he’d gone along with had been forcibly shattered - along with himself. Piecing parts of himself together without even a  _ glimpse _ of who he was felt like an endless climb to the peak of a mountain hidden behind a storm because  _ Varian _ didn’t know who Varian was. He’d been lied to,  _ molded _ , his whole life, pulled to and fro by strings that wrapped around him. 

But running through new lands, experiencing new things, Varian began to find new and old pieces of him that seemed to  _ fit _ \- he’d realized he enjoyed science and creating, he could read and sketch for fun, he actually loved seeing people happy with his help, trees were the best place to be for a beautiful view, hot chocolate was the  _ greatest  _ drink to exist, blue was no longer a color he hated - and he had carefully begun placing them together, piece by piece. It was a feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction and  _ relief _ that, for a moment, all this… this  _ happy  _ stuff suddenly being a part of him after  _ everything  _ that had happened was overwhelming. And some small part of him hesitated to accept it because  _ how  _ could he feel like this, so, so  _ happy _ and  _ alive _ with seemingly so much good coming for him when Hugo wasn’t… Hugo couldn’t... 

How could he? 

_ “You- you did great… Var…” _

_ The smoke was heavy, clogging up his throat, although it could’ve been the lingering phantom fingers around his neck as well. He could feel his body shaking but his mind felt disconnected, almost as if he was watching the scene unfold through a window. His fingers were curled tightly around the familiar jacket in front of him, turning his knuckles white with strain, and a hand was guiding his head to a shoulder. Away from the fires. Away from the carnage. Away from the twisted, mangled body fallen over the side of the ledge. Even now and still, the protective embrace was around him. _

_ “Hu-Hugo…” He pulled himself closer, almost frantically, towards his brother. He’d thought he’d lost him, he’d thought he’d been taken, he’d thought that… he’d been… _

_ “Hey, hey,” His voice was soft. Gentle. Not brusque or angry or  _ tired  _ as he’d last remembered it. He just wanted to curl up in his arms again, like before. Just the two of them, away from everyone, away from the world. Just- just- “I’m here Var. I’m not… I’m not going anywhere. I’m here now.” _

_ “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeated like a mantra, unable to stop the salty tears trickling down his face with  _ hot shame _ as he felt sticky fingers - sticky with blood - run through his hair. _

_ “No, no,” murmured Hugo, his chest vibrating with his voice, “I’m… I’m sorry. For leaving you like that. I shouldn’t have.” Varian shook his head. _

_ “I… I know why you did it.” And he did, if only beginning to. It still didn’t change how much it had scared him, but that wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on at the moment. Not now. He blinked away the stinging in his eyes as he frantically glanced around, hoping to find someone, anyone, familiar who could help - he couldn’t carry him by himself. “You’ll be fine, Nuru’s got doctors, someone who can help, they can fix you. Just… just hold on  _ please… _ ” _

_ Hugo chuckled with a cough. “I think I’m too broken for them to fix.”  _

_ The lump grew in the back of Varian’s throat and a sob almost tore out. “Don’t say that. You’re  _ not-  _ you’re… you’re...”  _

_ A constant. Always there. Someone I care about. Going to be alright. _

_ “No, no, I am,” Hugo continued, his voice taking on a different tone in his ear. Something stronger and somehow confident. “We’ve both been for  _ so long _. But this past year, I think… we’ve been given a chance to start over… And being out there, with you… I felt something again. Felt more whole than I’ve ever been. And I’ve  _ seen  _ it in you, Var. You’ve been smiling and laughing and I am just  _ so happy for you _.” He winced as he dropped his hand. “Listen, it’s gonna be okay…” Varian pushed away, his eyes wide.  _

_ “No, stop, don’t talk like that  _ please… _ ” There was so much blood, too much coated Hugo’s chest, Varian’s arms, puddled on the ground beneath them. Donella might’ve gotten pushed off to her death, but she’d taken someone down with her in the end. The offending blade had been kicked aside and it took all of Varian’s willpower to not glance at it, not look at the gashes on Hugo’s body. He couldn’t lose him, not yet. Not now. “You’re going to make it Hugo,” his voice cracked. “You have to.”  _

_ “Varian…” _

_ There was still so much he wanted to say. So much he needed to say, to do, to show him that he was more - that he’d grown, that he was changing. He just needed his brother to be there with him because he didn’t want to be alone. Not again. _

_ Please not again. _

_ “Varian.” He felt Hugo guide his gaze away from the blood, away from the hole in his chest, towards his own. Despite the bleeding and the pallor, his green eyes still shone, more alive than ever. “Listen to me, okay? It’s going, look - it’s going to be alright. I’m not, ngh… I’m not gonna be there, you and I know this - but I need you to know that I believe in you. And I believe you’re going to be alright. There’s people out there, people who care, people not like  _ them _. You’re gonna have to trust them ‘cause you’ll need them…” _

_ “I need  _ you… _ ” He hunched his shoulders to his ears as he shook his head frantically. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if something happens- what if I mess up everything and they get angry and then-” _

_ “Hey…” Hugo winced as he shifted. “You’re not a failure, okay? You’ve always tried so hard to do what you believe is right and that’s all that matters. What other people think wrong about you doesn’t matter. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone. Not anymore. Just be… Varian. My baby brother. You’ll make it.” _

_ A strangled laugh cut through the lump in his throat. “How did you become so hopeful?” _

_ Hugo’s thumb brushed away his tear tracks. “We left one dark and stormy night.” His face suddenly screwed up in pain as Varian scrambled to keep a hold of him. “Gah, I’m… I’m fine,” he said quickly with a sharp hiss.  _

_ “Hugo…?” His brother opened his eyes again, but Varian could see them starting to haze over. _

_ “I’ve always cared about you, you know?” he said, his voice lighter. “I’ve never really said it, you were always just there, and I should have but… I need you to know that I love you. I want you to be happy. You did great, Var saving us. I’m so proud of you.” _

_ ‘Saving us,’ but who was really saved? People were dead, Hugo was dying, and the world felt so cold and alone, how could this day possibly feel like a victory- _

_ But… _

_ The arm around him in an embrace. The soft and steady beating of a heart against his ear. The quiet threading of his hair. It was all so familiar a scene and for a moment, with the time they had left, he could almost pretend that they were elsewhere, cocooned in their closet, away from the world. Just the two of them again. _

_ He rested his head onto his brother’s chest, breath shuddering and shaking. “Tell me a story?” The soft laugh, coupled with a cough or two, was all that he yearned to hear. _

_ “Which one?” _

_ “‘Dance of the Waves.’” _

_ Another short laugh. _

_ “One time, long ago, there was an ocean, an island, and a boat…”  _

And for a moment - one blissful moment - everything had been alright. 

Silent tears fell down onto Ruddiger’s fur as he hugged the raccoon closer. It had been days since Hugo had died and while he felt empty, there was this  _ warmth  _ that had seemed to follow him everywhere since then and it was, he felt, helping him take another step forward. He couldn’t quite explain it, but it felt like a coat around him, almost as if Hugo was still there, a comforting presence watching over him. He glanced up at the stars again, flickering brightly.

_ I’m so proud of you. _

Hugo  _ was  _ proud.

_ I’ve always cared about you. _

He cared.

_ I love you.  _

They might not have had everything they needed or deserved, but along the way, there was one thing  _ at leas _ t that they rediscovered. And while he wished he could change time, wished that he could rewrite this story’s ending, he refused to let go of the truth that he had learned. A genuine smile lifted the corners of his mouth. 

“I love you too, Hugo.”

And he meant it.

He started at the sound of rustling, Ruddiger’s ears perking up like a cat, and he spun around to see Nuru coming out from the forest. She jumped a bit as she noticed them and raised her hands. “Oh, sorry Varian, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

Varian shifted, prompting Ruddiger to scuttle up and settle on his shoulders, and pushed himself onto his feet. He brushed dirt off of his hands and grinned sheepishly, trying to discreetly wipe away any stray tears. “It’s fine. I was just... finishing talking to him.” Her smile was understanding as she wrung her hands, purposefully looking away from the headstone. She nodded over to the path behind her.

“The camp’s ready to settle down for the night. I just wanted to make sure that you were… alright.” Varian stroked Ruddiger’s tail as he bit his lip with a furrowed brow.

“I’m doing fine… so far I think,” he let himself say, glancing up shyly. “Thanks,” he added, “for checking.” Nuru’s smile grew slightly. 

“I’ll make sure there’s still some space open. Yong offered to share his tent, but I wasn’t sure if you were up for that or not, so there’s an extra one for you and… and Ruddiger if you want to take it.” She was rambling, he noted, her voice wavering. It was almost as if watching in a mirror. With a self-conscious sigh, she rubbed her arm. “Did you want to stay for a moment longer or…”

Varian couldn’t stop himself from blinking. Concern,  _ care _ , from someone else besides Hugo or Ruddiger was something he was still not used to receiving. 

_ He cared.  _

She  _ cared _ . 

She understood and wanted to help. 

_ “I just wanted to help.” _

If he could choose - and, he supposed, he could - he would stay on this cliffside for as long as possible, a moment held forever in time. But that would be another illusion he’d remain in. Nothing changing, but nothing moving. Caught in the same, never ending loop of day and night and stillness. 

That wasn’t what Hugo would’ve wanted. And deep down, that wasn’t what  _ Varian _ wanted either. The war was over, but the aftermath still raged. He had lost everything but… Ruddiger’s furry paw scratched at his cheek and he realized. 

He had to move forward, but he  _ wasn’t  _ alone. He looked back at the many people who’d given their time, offered their help,  _ risked their lives _ for both him and Hugo. Celeste, the cook, Jeong, Ulla, Quirin, Eli the soldier, the woman down in the dungeons, the new company of Coronans. Yong, who wasn’t much younger than him, who had left the comfort of his home to help them navigate the spirit-filled mazes of his kingdom. Ruddiger, who had followed them around and annoyed his brother in the beginning before the realization had hit that the raccoon had a knack for warning of potential danger and of giving comfort to Varian in moments of panic - in return for food, of course. Mosi, Nuru’s older brother who had fought on their behalf in Galcrest, thoroughly convincing the court that they had no connection to the Bayan assassins that had killed their king. And Nuru, a princess with a burden too much for one person, a kid  _ just like him _ , who had trusted them despite all other voices to the contrary, and who had offered him sanctuary and a home to stay. Who reached out towards him, even now, because she wanted him for  _ him _ . 

His cheeks became wet again as he shook his head, walking over to place a hand on the headstone, the words he’d chiseled standing out against the light stone. A final message he’d chosen to commemorate. Hugo would enjoy that. 

“We’re good.”

_ Live your life for yourself, not for anyone else. _ That’s what Hugo had told him an eternity ago.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bundle, carefully drawing back the edges of the cloth before settling it down. While it had taken him hours to assemble and weld the metal pieces and gears together as close as he could to its original state, it was still not quite the same.  _ But it was enough. _ He wiped away a stray tear as he stroked the metal wires, cold and silent now and yet somehow  _ not _ . 

One last gift.

Ruddiger’s little claws dug into his shoulders gently as he took a sharp breath and stood up, pocketing the final piece.  _ One last piece of him _ . 

“And for you too, Hugo. For… for the both of us. I’ll live.” 

He turned to Nuru, his smile not quite reaching his eyes, but it was close enough as she mirrored it. A new and familiar weight rested on his head, his shoulders, his pocket, but his steps felt lighter now, his heart freer.

“I’m ready.” 

-

_ I’m ready. _

Hugo smiled. 

It hurt, when he opened his eyes for the first time. His entire body had been on fire - spreading from his abdomen towards his limbs - and his insides choking. Pain had been a constant in his life, so why did he believe that death would be any different? But it wasn’t a physical pain any more, but rather a gnawing void in his chest. Where his heart used to be. 

He’d woken up, standing in the middle of fallen pillars, flames and smoke circling towards the sky. His eyes had then been drawn to a figure hunched over the rubble, shoulders shuddering and head shaking. It was then he recognized the soft sobs that cut through the air. Recognized the blood that pooled through his translucent feet. Recognized the body clung tightly by the figure.

That was him.

And that was Varian. 

It should’ve shocked him, knowing he was dead. After all the hell he’d been forced through, through all of the horrors of his childhood, _leaving_ so late and abruptly _,_ _this_ was where death found him. 

On the rooftops of his home. A full circle. Fitting. 

_ No _ , he mused as he’d gazed through the smoke around him. Automatons were scattered, torn and sparking. Bodies from both sides limping and staggering, beaten and bloodied. Fires dotted the keep’s grounds and cries filled the air. 

Not home. Not anymore. It never was. 

_ I’m sorry for leaving, Var _ , he thought, now glancing at his brother’s receding figure, only red-rimmed and buried into his raccoon’s fur just moments before.  _ Sorry for leaving but look at yourself - you’ve done good. _

_ Don’t mourn for me.  _

If he could cry, he would have. No one could see - not anymore - and for a small moment, he could feel the phantom tracks trailing down his face. A release long overdue.

He had never really spared a moment to think of the possibility of Varian losing him. Losing Varian on the other hand, that was always on the forefront of his mind. Because if he had lost him… lost the only good in his life… well, what life would be worth living after that? But he supposed he should have - his brother was so young and really, Hugo was also the only thing he had left too. 

And yet here he was, holding on with a glimmer of hope far greater than Hugo ever had. It tore at him, listening to his brother ramble as if he were still there, as if he could hear - and he  _ was _ and he  _ could _ \- but he would trade the world to keep him laughing, to keep him grinning as he was now. Varian might have lost his brother but he gained new people to love and support him. He wouldn’t be alone. And for now, that was all he could ask for.

Hugo smiled. 

He looked down at the headstone - a surreal feeling, seeing his own name chiseled and gleaming right back at him. The sight was something to get used to. Burials were different in Bayangor. If you were rich enough, you might have been able to afford being buried in family crypts, but more often than not, so many were buried in temporarily marked and overcrowded graveyards. Burial by a cliffside, that was more of a Galcrest tradition. Hugo’s mind wandered to the faint memory of Nuru’s words - words that seemed like ages ago - of what it meant. Releasing the spirit back into the wind. Leaving behind any and all chains that held one back. The final flight of freedom. And Varian had  _ chosen _ that tradition... for  _ him _ ?

A myriad of colors had been painted as its border, greens and blues and yellows braided in vines and, he noticed with a soft chuckle, tiny scientific symbols etched into the stone. Of course Varian would have added- 

He blinked. At its base, green dahlias, realistic enough to believe that they were sprouting from the very ground itself, spiraled upwards, their petals a soft gradient of dark to light. He felt his jaw drop. Varian had said that the Princess - Rapunzel, that was her name - had painted his headstone. It was stunning and he found himself mesmerised but for a different reason.

How had she known his favourite flower? Even Varian had no idea - not that it had been anything important to think about or mention in the first place - but how?

His eyes fell further down and his gasp was inaudible.

“Cheese?” he whispered, voice stolen as soon as it left his mouth, but an almost breathless sense of disbelief deflated him. The figure was barely held together - he must’ve gotten crushed during the siege - but Varian must have found it and tirelessly put it back together…. 

His fingers, near transparent and pale, shook as he reached towards the mouse’s metal plates, a near sob strangled in the back of his throat as they phased through it, only briefly being able to brush against the wires. His first creation, the only thing he cared for most besides his brother. It was here, he was here and he couldn’t… he couldn’t…

His heart should have been stuttering but there was nothing - no blood pounding in his head, no sound of his breath reaching his ears, no way to touch, to reach out, to feel  _ one last time, he really was dead _ -

As his eyes trailed up, he stilled as a different set of words came to view. An epitaph. 

_ And the goddess proclaimed, ‘Here or there, land or sea, sorrow or joy, the veil may fall but ne’er apart shall we stand again until the sun shows its face.’  _

That- that was- 

His story. That was  _ his _ story.  _ Dance of the Waves _ \- where the sea goddess spoke to the dying old man out in the middle of the ocean. His stupid little bedtime story that he’d made after being banned from the library for a time - the one that he’d started to tell before his breath gave out- It had been  _ years _ since he’d even actually thought of it, so why would Varian choose this as  _ their _ reminder?

_ “Tell me a story?” _

_ “You sure you want this one?” _

_ A smile that meant the world to him. _

It was a story made by a child who had longed for more. Whose imagination formed a world of magic and hope just touched by the fears of their own. One where the release was peaceful and death… wasn’t the end.

And it was Varian’s favourite. 

_ ‘Sorrow or joy, the veil may fall but ne’er apart shall we stand again.’ _

Oh.

_ Oh. _

The phantom tightening of his chest loosened and he let his fingers outline Cheese’s figure. The wind up lever was missing, but a shift from Varian and he noticed the bundle of cloth disappearing into his brother’s pocket. He was letting him go but keeping him close. Just enough to take another step. To place another piece together.

_ Live for the both of them. Live for himself. _

“I love you,” he murmured, hand resting just above the headstone. His eyes followed his brother as he pushed himself up and accepted Nuru’s hand. Pride, care, and  _ love _ surged in his form - he recognized it, he knew it was there. “Always have, always will.” His brother glanced back, almost as if he’d heard the words and Hugo reached out for him, unsurprised as his fingers fell through his arm. However, a peaceful expression crossed Varian’s face as he stared right where he was standing, glanced upwards at the stars, and then took one, two, three steps as he turned and followed Nuru back to the camp.

It was going to be alright. It would take time, and Hugo winced as he knew the trials that would be coming for his brother.  _ For them. _ If this was permanent, he would linger, he would watch, he would try to be there as much as he could. But despite it all… he felt like it was going to be alright. Somehow, it would. 

Green dahlias rested by his feet. Newfound freedom. A new chapter, a new life. His beloved creation, small and innocent still of a child’s care, stared right up at him. His story’s words, echoing with the sound of Varian’s voice, smiled at him. The fresh and beautiful colors mixed in with his vision and he glanced up at the stars.

“The stars are pretty tonight,” he agreed, smiling once more as he turned away, faced the sea and followed his brother into the new chapter of their story. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Tearbend to your heart's content and be welcomed to yell at me here.
> 
> Here's a playlist for y'all as well:
> 
> \- Starlight Brigade (TWRP ft. Dan Avidan)  
> \- In Our Bedroom After the War (Stars)  
> \- Heroes (Mika)  
> \- Hated by Life Itself (Kanzaki Iori but check out the covers as well :)  
> \- The Last Unicorn (America or NSP)  
> \- The Call (Regina Spektor)


End file.
